


Strawberries

by MycroftFeels



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fat Character, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 13:16:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MycroftFeels/pseuds/MycroftFeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mycroft wasn’t allowed any chocolate on his strawberries. And more than that, he could only have a couple of them. Sherlock could smell the resentment in the air."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strawberries

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Strawberries](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/11550) by Geniusbee. 



Sherlock stared at the small pile of strawberries sitting in his bowl. He had already eaten a bunch and was feeling pretty full; his tiny stomach was slightly bloated even. He didn’t want to keep eating, but the obviously jealous stares from Mycroft were just too good to pass up. Mycroft wasn’t allowed any chocolate on his strawberries. And more than that, he could only have a couple of them. Sherlock could smell the resentment in the air.

He took another strawberry and dipped it in the chocolate fondue. Mycroft’s jaw tightened even more. With a swift motion, Sherlock made the strawberry disappear into his mouth. The moan he let out sounded exaggerated, even to him.

Their parents were far too wrapped in their own conversation to notice the tension between the brothers, and a few minutes later they kissed them goodnight and were off, leaving them both to clean up the table. 

As Mycroft began picking up the dishes, Sherlock kept stirring the chocolate with the tip of his last strawberry. The smell was tempting even to him, who had already eaten to bursting point, so it wasn’t surprising that Mycroft’s cheeks had turned into a furious shade of red.

-Would you stop that?

His voice was soft and controlled. Too controlled. Sherlock knew he was holding back a colorful series of insults inside that polite mouth of his. 

-Hm?

-Don’t play fool, Sherlock. Stop it now. I’m growing tired of your games.

Sherlock stared at his older brother. He looked positively hurt. In that moment he realized: this really was a big deal to him. For a second, Sherlock forgot about teasing him and just observed. Mycroft was standing impossibly straight and even so his small belly was more than evident under his shirt. Still, he looked more stylized than he had, say, a year before, and it wouldn’t be fair to call him fat anymore. He was just slightly overweight from what Sherlock could gather.

-Why?

-Because you are being childish and…!

Sherlock cut him midsentence.

-No, I mean why are you making such a big deal out of this? You shouldn’t be on a diet anymore; I know your doctor said so. Mummy won’t force you like she did when you were little. So why are you still doing this?

Mycroft opened his mouth but no sound came out. He lowered his eyes and it seemed that he was scanning the floor, searching for an answer there. Sherlock had to laugh.

-For God’s sake, Mycroft.

He dipped the strawberry in the chocolate again and, in a blink, he was standing by Mycroft’s side, offering him the fruit.

Mycroft seemed to jump up to the ceiling.

-What the hell do you think you are doing!?

-Mycroft, would you just relax?

Sherlock moved his hand closer to his brother’s mouth but he would not open it an inch. He even ducked to keep his lips from touching the strawberry when Sherlock became exasperated with the whole situation and a little more violent in consequence.

-Seriously? Are you just going to stay on the floor?

-If I have too.

Sherlock raised his hands in surrender and sat beside him. He tried to meet his eyes but Mycroft was doing a marvelous job avoiding his.

-I just want to know why. There’s nothing physically wrong with you. Granted, you’ll never be an underwear model, Mycroft, but still.

Mycroft rolled his eyes at him.

-Your weight is perfectly fine.

-May be. But my body doesn’t look like it’s perfectly fine to me.

He looked away one more time. Sherlock could see just how devastated he was feeling. Without thinking it twice he put his hand over his brother’s.

-It does to me.

It was a blatant lie and Mycroft probably knew it, but he smiled all the same at the thought of his brother being nice to him just because he needed him to be. Sherlock smiled back.

-And believe me when I say that you can afford at least one strawberry. Just one, just tonight. I promise by tomorrow I will have forgotten any of this has happened and I’ll go back to mindlessly mocking your diet.

Mycroft laugh was one of honest joy. This time when Sherlock drew his hand closer to his mouth, Mycroft opened obediently and gladly.


End file.
